The Devil's Cauldron (27 page)

A moment of hesitation, then lights flashed on the big screen. “Ready.”

She was cleaned up since that night in the Costa Rican cloud forest, all wet and muddy. Her cornsilk hair was drawn back in braids, and even though her face couldn’t move, a light in her eyes spoke of intelligence.

“How do you feel?” Walter asked.

The words came out slowly. “I feel butter . . .
better
. I feel better, not butter.”
 

“You’re sure?” Walter asked in a teasing tone. “You’re not asking for a piece of toast, are you?”

“Haha. Nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Becca said. “You’re doing amazing.”

“It feels good to talk. To be able to share. Thank you. You are heroes. All of you.”

Her chosen voice was a smooth, charming alto, almost melodic, like an opera singer when she was speaking. Sheesh, no wonder Eric was smitten. Wait until she got the emotion part of the program down; she’d be a killer. Right now, the inflection was slightly off, like a text-to-computer voice program.

“We’re not heroes,” Becca said. “We’re ordinary people doing our jobs.”

“You are heroes to me.”

Walter said, “She’s the best patient I’ve worked with. Bright. Fantastic memory. Tell her something once and she’s got it. And a hard worker. We went five hours yesterday. That’s hard brain work, like learning a language or the piano. Heck, I was exhausted. And when I left her alone, she kept practicing on her own.”

“So much to learn,” Meggie said. “I have wasted enough time. You understand?”

“Of course we do,” Wes said. “These two more than anyone.” He gestured to Walter and Uncle Davis.

“Tell me, Meggie,” Davis said. “Would you like to work for the foundation?”

She tried to answer, but the lights flickering across the board kept missing their marks and something like gibberish came out.

“Oops,” Walter said. “Try again.”

“Level three?” she asked. “For one moment.”

Walter’s eyes flickered and the screen flipped from a bluish tint to green. A simpler pattern of letters and syllables appeared. Back down to level three. Then it shifted blue again.

“Never mind. I’m not putting your training wheels back on. You’re good with level four. Slow down if you need more time.”

“Okay.” Meggie seemed to gather herself. “I am handica . . . am paraly . . . alyzed. How do I help?”

“You’re not the only one,” Walter said. “If you want to join us, we’ll make it happen.”

“I want to. Badly. But what can I do?”

“Don’t worry,” Uncle Davis said. “We’ll figure that out. Smart, fast learner—you’re exactly what we need. And we can work around handicaps. That’s what we do.”  

“Does Eric work for you, too?”

“As much as he can,” Wes answered. “But a lot of it is computer work. Meeting people. It’s not always easy to find him something to do.”

“Maybe he could be Meggie’s assistant,” Becca said. “She needs plenty of physical help.”

“Eric himself needs assistance. I don’t think—”

“Of course he does,” Becca said. “But I’ve got an idea about that, too. What I’m thinking is—”

“Hold on,” Wes interrupted, before it could go any farther. “Let’s get through Meggie’s rehab first. Then we can worry about arranging an aide and whatnot.”

“I want to see him,” Meggie said. “May I, please?”

“In a bit,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. “He’s playing a video game and . . . well, maybe at lunch.”

It was the first thing Eric asked when they’d arrived at the house. Could he see Meggie? Where was she? What was she doing? Could she talk any better than last time? Wes had a hard time putting him off. Only video games distracted him in the end.

Wes had hoped to think about the issue before questioning Meggie, but decided this needed more immediate consideration. Probably for the best. Deal with matters sooner, rather than later.

“Walter,” he said, “could I have a word with Meggie?”

“Oh?”

His face didn’t move, but Wes could swear the man was raising an eyebrow, at least mentally.

“I guess we could cut out early for lunch,” Walter said.

“I’ll call staff,” Uncle Davis said. “Have them whip up something.”

The two men wheeled out of the room. The door swung shut behind them, controlled by computer. Wes eyed Becca, still sitting in that peculiar posture common to pregnant women who struggled to support aching backs. Thirty-seven weeks now, and counting.

“I’ll stay,” she said. “You might need a neutral third party.”

He started to protest, but Becca’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Okay, but I’m warning you, I might get stubborn about this.”

“Of course you will.”

“Meggie,” he said. “Do you know what Eric thinks about you?”

The screen lit up. “Not for sure. I want to ask him.”

“I can tell you. He has a serious crush.”

“Don’t call it a crush,” Becca said. “It infantilizes him.”

“Infatuation, then. Let’s be realistic about his cognitive abilities.”

“So he’s disabled. That doesn’t mean he isn’t serious about Meggie. It’s not like your brother jumps from one love interest to another.”

Wes turned back to Meggie. “So you’re going to ask him how he feels? Let’s say he professes his love like the hero in some romantic comedy. What do you tell him? Thanks, kid!”

“I tell him . . . ” Meggie stopped. The screen flashed twice, as she got off sync and had to start over. “I tell him that I want to be with him.”

Becca leaned forward. Her eyes gleamed. “You do?”

“Hold on,” Wes said. “You know what you’re saying, right?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Meggie said. “I am an adult. I can make my own decisions. Decide what is best for me. I am not afraid of being hurt.”

“Meggie, I’m not talking about you—I’m talking about my brother. I’m worried about
his
feelings, not yours.”
 

“You are?”

“Eric is loyal. He’s never had a girlfriend before, but once he does, he won’t let go. I know you’ve been locked in there for seven years. You must have been so lonely.”

“You have no idea.”

“I can only imagine. I’ve never been there. But it sounds like hell, the stuff of nightmares. The idea of a boyfriend, or someone fawning over you, must be exciting. And he saved your life. That’s got to hit hard.”

Becca put a hand on his wrist. “Wes.”

“I need to say it. Now, before it goes too far and someone gets hurt.” He turned back to Meggie. “But you’re out now. True, barring some huge new medical advance, you’ll never walk again, never feed yourself. You won’t be running in the Paralympics. But your mind is free, and that’s what makes us human. If you’re happy and optimistic now, just wait, it gets even better. You’ll be working, you’ll have a purpose. And you’re a smart woman—you’re going to grow tired of my brother. So you’ll break up. That will destroy him. I can’t let you do that.”

“Let me tell you,” Meggie said.

“Tell me what?”

“Please. I am slow. Let me say it all without . . . interrupting. Please.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“I had a lot of time to think. About Benjamin. What I saw in him, why I was with him.” The
words came out agonizingly slow, but sure. “So many things that he was, I didn’t want. I
never
would have wanted them, if I hadn’t been caught up by superficial things like how he looked and how much money he had. And so many things that he wasn’t, I needed. I still need them.”
 

As she spoke, her fluency was increasing, sentence by sentence. If this were pure therapy, Wes would flip the computer to level five, force her brain to work harder.

“Benjamin was a shallow, cowardly person,” Meggie continued. “Eric is neither of those things. He is sincere. He is brave. He is loyal. You have no idea how much that means to me now.”

“He is also developmentally disabled,” Becca said in a quiet voice. “You are not.”

“I know. I’ve thought about that, too. If I could, I’d do for his brain the same thing you’re doing for mine. But I can’t. But in the end, the things he doesn’t have, I can live without. The things he does have, I want more than anything.”

“Eric and I are twins,” Wes said. “When I was being born, he was stuck inside, with an umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Suffocating.”

“I understand.”

“That’s
my
reality. That’s the part that you need to accept on faith. My health is built on my brother’s brain damage. And I will never stop protecting him.”
 

Becca squeezed his hand.

“But you sent him to help me,” Meggie said. “Even though it was dangerous.”

“That’s true, I did.”

“There are some things that are worth the risk.”

Was she right? It was against everything in Wes’s nature to trust his brother to someone else. And could a relationship like this even work?

“I have so many questions,” he said. “What about physically?”

“My nerves aren’t dead. I can still feel.”

“Yes, but you can’t move. What are
you
going to do to reciprocate?”
 

“I don’t know. We’ll work that out. Maybe nothing will ever happen—but that’s not your choice to make.”

“Do you even like the same things he does?”

“Yes. Cheesy musicals, Disney movies, classic characters like Robin Hood and Sherlock
Holmes. Yes, I do. That’s not
all
I like, but what couple shares everything?”
 

“And you find him physically attractive?”

“Is that so hard to believe? Tell him, Becca.”

Becca smiled. “He looks like you, Wes. So yeah, he’s kind of cute.”

“I don’t know,” Wes said. “I still can’t wrap my mind around it.”

Meggie slowed down again. “All I’m asking is that you give me a chance.”

Wes looked at Becca. “And you think . . . what?”

His wife’s eyes were watery. “I hope this isn’t pregnancy hormones, but . . . I say they go for it.”

“May I see him?” Meggie asked.

Wes got up without answering. He walked into the hallway, then to the front room. Walter and Davis were talking about a new patient advocacy law in the Netherlands and how it might be a precedent for changes in the United States. He ignored them and walked to the home theater.

Eric was in there, with a controller in hand. Watson and Holmes stood over the dead body of a werewolf mid-transition. But his Victorian-garbed heroes stood still, waiting for instructions. Eric stared to the side, distracted by something. His brow furrowed and Wes could imagine the engine sputtering in there. Figuring things out in his own, deliberate way.

What a team they made. Twenty employees, but the core was here in this house. One pregnant woman, two paralyzed people, and adding a third. Eric, with all his cognitive disabilities. God knew Wes had plenty of his own flaws and weaknesses. Yet here they were, saving lives, one at a time.

“Werewolves? This is even goofier than the zombie game. Your brain is going to rot out.”

Eric turned, face brightening. “Wussy! Come play with me. You can be Watson. He has a Gatling gun that shoots silver bullets. It’s awesome.”

“Actually, I came in to tell you that someone wants to see you.”

“Who is it, is it Dad? Someone from the group home? One of my friends?”

“No, Ruk. It’s your pretty lady. She’s in the language lab and asked if you would come in. She has something important to ask you.”

“Meggie!”

Eric sprang to his feet, almost knocked Wes over as he brushed past, then ran down the hallway to the language lab. He burst in the door.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Eric,” came the voice from the computer. “Please sit down.”

Then Becca stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind her. The voices cut out. She wrapped her arms around Wes’s neck and kissed him.

“You did good,” she said.

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am. Now, I’m going upstairs to lie down in the guest bedroom. You can come up with me, if you’d like.”

“Are you feeling sick?”

“Actually, I may or may not have just felt a contraction.”

He stared. “But you’re only thirty-seven weeks.”

“Wes,” she said, “haven’t you figured it out yet? Life doesn’t operate on a schedule.”

And with that, she rounded the corner and her footsteps trudged up the stairs. Wes ran after her.

From the Author

Thank you for reading
The Devil’s Cauldron.
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The Devil’s Deep Series

Book #1 –
The Devil’s Deep
 

Book #2 –
The Devil’s Peak
 

Book #3 – The Devil’s Cauldron